


Just Forever

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Post-Canon, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: They were doing this thing, this thing called boundaries, because apparently, they didn’t really have them, and apparently, it was a thing people should do.After living in each other’s pockets for so much of their lives, and then both of them… Well, then Steve being frozen for seventy years and Bucky turned into the very thing they’d been fighting so hard against… After all of that and all of the things that came after… it felt both like they were the same as they had always been and as if they had never known each other before at all.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 170





	Just Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splinteredwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splinteredwinter/gifts).



> Thanks to Ro for the beta!!!!!
> 
> For Splintered Winter - thank you so so much for the support, and also for the awesome prompts!!!

Steve woke up alone.

And sure, it wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last, but…

But he’d gone to bed last night with Bucky, they had fucked and Steve had drifted off to sleep with Bucky complaining about Steve being lazy and crusty cum being gross and the  _ wet spot _ and, probably, Bucky had cleaned the both of them up after Steve was out because that’s a thing he did.

Getting up at - Steve rolled over to look at the alarm clock - 4:23 AM, or earlier, and leaving Steve sore and cold and alone was also a thing he did.

Steve sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

They were doing this thing, this thing called  _ boundaries _ , because apparently, they didn’t really have them, and apparently, it was a thing people should do. 

After living in each other’s pockets for so much of their lives, and then both of them… Well, then Steve being frozen for seventy years and Bucky turned into the very thing they’d been fighting so hard against… After all of that and all of the things that came after… it felt both like they were the same as they had always been and as if they had never known each other before at all.

So. Boundaries.

Boundaries meant not insisting Bucky tell Steve all the shit he didn’t want to. It meant Bucky at least pretended he trusted Steve to watch his own back and didn’t tail him  _ everywhere _ he went on his own.

It meant… not getting up and finding Bucky and hauling him back into bed.

It meant Steve was awake, and alone, and lying there in their bed staring up at the ceiling and trying his damnedest - and failing - not to catalog all of the nightmares Bucky had that could have driven him from their bed. 

It was a damn long list, and it wasn’t like Steve didn’t have a list of his own, wasn’t like the two of them didn’t share some nightmares, and it wasn’t like Bucky  _ never _ talked to Steve about them, but it was…

It was a thing that made Steve angry. The kind of angry that sat low and heavy and cold in his gut. Because this was all so much bullshit.

Life wasn’t fair. Steve knew that, had always known that. It was the whole point of fighting in the first place, fighting to make things better.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t  _ bullshit _ that Bucky was still suffering, that all the things that had been done to him, that he’d been made to do, would haunt him maybe forever and, what’s more, Bucky thought it was deserved, thought the pain he experienced on a daily basis was what he had earned.

Which was also bullshit.

Steve tucked his hands behind his head and tried to get comfortable. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep again, but if he got up now… Well, he’d either go find Bucky, and he couldn’t do that because  _ boundaries, _ or he’d get up and go run, and then Bucky would know he hadn’t been able to sleep without him. Again.

Bullshit.

It was all a lot of bullshit, and they were  _ retired _ , were out of the world-saving game and were just civilians now, just living dull lives in Brooklyn and…

And sometimes it felt like they’d never escape it, any of it.

Steve sighed, glared at the ceiling because there wasn’t anything or anyone else for him to glare at.

Fuck it.

Steve shoved the twisted sheets and blankets away and got out of the bed. He pulled on his running clothes and sneakers.

They lived in a loft, the only walls and doors in the place those to the bathroom, closets, balcony, pantry and front door, and it only took Steve peering over the railing of the second floor and down into the living areas to see that Bucky wasn’t in the apartment at all.

He tried not to let that dig any deeper into him, but didn’t have much success there, either.

A ten-mile loop was easy, his pace practically pedestrian, but it still brought him to Prospect Park for sunrise.

He stopped at the Boathouse, sat down on the steps by the water’s edge and watched the sun and sky paint the water with golden reflections.

This time of year, it was still cold in the mornings, wouldn’t be warm for a few more hours, and Steve’s breath puffed out in steamy little clouds that wisped away to nothing.

The lake was amber and pink, the cloudy sky glowing with light, and suddenly, Steve wasn’t alone anymore.

He turned his head, just enough to make sure, and- 

And Bucky was there, standing a few feet away and wearing a red-hooded sweatshirt and black joggers, hair loose and a little sweaty, face pale and dark circles under his eyes.

Steve tried for a smile, tried to appear at ease and welcoming, and knew he missed the mark by a mile.

Bucky came over and sat with him anyway, just behind and above Steve, his thighs bracketing Steve’s body and his chest at Steve’s back.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice low and rough and breath a warm current against the back of Steve’s neck.

“Mornin’,” Steve replied.

Bucky leaned his head forward, cold nose tickling before he turned his head and settled his cheek against Steve’s nape.

“You remember…” Bucky started, and stopped almost immediately. Steve made himself sit still and silent. 

It was another five minutes before Bucky tried again.

“You remember that summer I worked for Mikey?”

“The summer you helped him smuggle rum?”

Bucky huffed a laugh at Steve’s irritation, nearly a hundred years later. But, to Steve, it was just as fresh. They’d been thirteen, and Bucky had decided to get himself a job helping booze smugglers, because he wanted to buy Steve some new pencils for his birthday - none of which Steve had known until  _ after _ the fact, until after Mikey’s entire crew had been rounded up by the Brooklyn police and Bucky had escaped any kind of prison sentence only because his old man played poker with the commissioner.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s chest, pulled him closer, and Steve went, though he couldn’t help the way he remained a little stiff, a little tense even in the embrace.

“I remember.”

“I figured.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder, lips finding the seam between shirt and skin and warming it for a brief second before he tucked his chin over Steve’s shoulder instead. “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t… I woke up at two and didn’t know - you were snoring like a fuckin’ train-”

“I don’t snore.”

“ _ And _ I couldn’t…” Bucky laughed again, but there wasn’t any humor to it. “All I remembered was that I had to be at the docks, and I just… I put on a fuckin’ hoodie and  _ sweatpants, _ and it wasn’t until I was there that I realized… it’s not ‘32. I didn’t even know why I was  _ there _ , Stevie. I just stood there like a fuckin’ idiot until some cats got into a fight, and I- I remembered. Remembered Mikey and Dave and Isaac and- and it’s not ‘32, and I’m not- We’re not…” Bucky’s voice was strained.

“I don’t snore,” Steve repeated, and he wrapped his hands around Bucky’s, pulled until Bucky was pressed so tightly to his back it was almost like they were connected.

Bucky turned his head, again, lips smashed to Steve’s neck and eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s cheek, and they were wet. Wet and cold, and Bucky’s nose was like a line of ice against his jaw.

Bucky drew in a ragged breath, let it out against Steve’s skin, and Steve shivered but held on.

“You’ve snored ever since Tom Taylor broke your nose in ‘28,” Bucky finally said, his voice still rough but almost even.

“Have not.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna have to admit it, Stevie.”

The sun was high enough now, the temperature warmingf, and mist started to rise from the water, daylight burning away the cold.

“Not happenin’.”

-o-

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So.... this is fic number 300 for me on AO3. Which is... trippy as hell, to be honest.
> 
> I feel like I should do some kind of something?
> 
> So, uh, here goes:
> 
> Comment below with which of my (not GW) fics you'd like to read a sequel of and I will pick one to write a sequel for - not as fic 301 obviously because I've got a whole host of fics to write this week, but sooner than later.


End file.
